


Stick Around

by Helholden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a tumblr prompt. Prompt called for, “Sansa is a famous singer and Sandor is her bodyguard. Sandor doesn't approve of the guys Sansa is trying to date and tends to sabotage her dates.” I read ‘sabotage her dates’ and knew it was going to be a comedy. Sabotaging!Sandor within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stick Around

**Author's Note:**

> I know the singer/bodyguard angle has been done with these two before, so I wanted to acknowledge this isn’t exactly original on my behalf, but I fulfilled the prompt, so here we go!

_* * *_

 

The first one was some crippled prick from a wealthy family. His name was Willas. Sandor couldn’t remember what they were rich for, but it had something to do with agriculture. He had to watch from nearby while she sat at a fancy table in a fancy restaurant, crooning over the buggering fool. Finally, when Sandor couldn’t take anymore, he stopped a young woman passing by, held up fifty pounds, and asked her to walk up to them, slap the fool, call him a lying cheat, and storm off. The woman looked offended for a moment, but then she eyed the money in his hand, shrugged her shoulders, and took it.

 

Sandor watched as she approached their table. She slapped Willas hard across the face, and Sansa gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. The lady screamed and yelled at Willas, drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant, and then she did one better. She picked up his glass of champagne and splashed him in the face with it.

 

Sansa immediately got up from the table. Willas tried to explain that he had no idea who that woman was, but Sansa told him to save it. She scooped up her purse and stormed off.

 

Sandor had to force back his look of satisfaction.

 

The next boy was some politician’s son by the name of Joffrey. He seemed nice on the outside, but Sandor saw him with another girl on the side. On top of that, Joffrey smacked the other girl around if her bruises and black eye were anything to go by. Sandor claimed to have done a background check on Joffrey, which was fake, and Sansa dumped him on their next date together, calling him all sorts of names in a very unladylike manner.

 

Needless to say, Sandor was pleased with himself.

 

The third man was a short prick with a twirly mustache. His name was Petyr, and he liked to twirl his mustache around his finger. He was a creep through and through. Sansa was only dating him because he was a rich banker. Sandor got rid of him easy. He informed Petyr’s wife of his infidelity. Petyr ran off and never came back.

 

One night after a long and exhausting concert, Sansa called Sandor to her room. She was sitting on the edge of her bed. Her hair was wet, and she was dressed in nothing but a white bath robe. There were tears on her face. She quickly wiped them away when he entered her room.

 

Sandor closed the door behind himself.

 

“Why are all men the same, Sandor?” Sansa asked him softly. “None of them are decent. None of them stick around . . . ”

 

For once, Sandor felt guilty. It was his fault none of them stuck around, but none of them were good enough for her. None of those pricks deserved her. With a deep frown creasing his scarred face, he approached her bed. Slowly, he sat down beside her.

 

“They’re all bloody idiots,” he said. “That’s why.”

 

Sansa took a deep breath. She looped her arm with his, leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’ve stuck around,” she whispered.

 

Sandor turned his head and looked down at her. “It’s my job,” Sandor told her flatly.

 

She lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling up at him. “You know what I mean,” Sansa said, and Sandor was silent because she was right. He knew.

 

He should have stopped himself, but that look on her face coupled with her in nothing but a bath robe and damp hair was enough to do him in, so Sandor closed the space between them and kissed her hard. She wasn’t surprised. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, parted her lips, and moaned gently against his mouth. Sandor grasped her tighter, deepening the kiss between them.

 

When Sansa pulled away for breath, she said, “Oh . . . ”

 

And so Sandor kissed her again.

 

 


End file.
